


Chasing Sunlight

by Applefallarchive



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Depression, Drug Abuse, Eventual Smut, Eventual relationship, Fluff, M/M, Moving, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Weddings, step parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11683206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefallarchive/pseuds/Applefallarchive
Summary: Patrick's fairly certain his mother is insane when she moves them across the country to Juneau, Alaska.While he's sure he'll never call Juneau home, he meets Pete, dark, mysterious, and full of secrets, and Patrick feels like their time together could be limited.Through it all, he finds Juneau might not be so bad after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my new fic, chasing Sunlight! I've been thinking about this for a long time and it's been in the works for a while too. 
> 
> I'm so freaking excited for this fic! Keep in mind this is not beta read!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Patrick scowls at his mother the entire way to Juneau, Alaska, all the way up to when they're standing outside their new house with the UHaul truck full of their shit beside them.

The house is a small little thing, and Patrick hates it immediately. He's seen pictures prior to the move, but they did nothing to ease the anger he has over moving from Chicago to Nowhere, Alaska. The tall pines seem to mock him and the flowers planted out in front of the house laugh at him. He wants to laugh right back. They’ll die come winter. 

Despite all the green, it's dark and dreary, clouds covering the town like a heavy watchman. Patrick looks around warily, not liking the way the dark clouds seemed to threaten them.

"Isn't it beautiful?" His mother gushes, unable to tear her eyes away from it. It's painted light blue and white and stands out against the rising green trees behind it. Most of the other homes around them are also painted similar light colors, and Patrick wonders if it’s to keep out the forest from closing in on them and the dark clouds from settling in. Patrick feels a little ill looking up and seeing a mountain rising up right behind their home. He misses Chicago.

Patrick shrugs. "Yeah. Sure." He says when his mother turns and scowls at him. "What? You think I'm happy about this?" He asks her, annoyed. The past month had felt like shit to Patrick. His mom had been high on the fact that she was getting remarried in three months and had mostly ignored Patrick's growing angst throughout the past month. Patrick's feeling extra angry now that moving is a reality. She’d hardly considered his own feelings about the move, and Patrick resents her for it.

It's dreary out, and damn cold. Way colder than it had the right to be considering that it was early June. Patrick glances around. There's not many people out - a couple of kids play with a dog across the street and a neighbor mows the lawn. It's similar to Glenview in that, but it's colder and quiet, and there’s much more green. It’s quiet enough that it makes Patrick feel uncomfortable and long for the bustling traffic and noise of home despite the fact that he had never really liked the noise in the first place.

He follows his mom inside, not really wanting to but also not really wanting to be out in the cold. It's small inside, but, admittedly, nice. The wood floors are nice, and the walls are painted a clean white. Patrick hides the fact that he kind of likes it, mostly just to spite his mother some more. She leads him up to his room and he pushes the door open, feeling severely disappointed in what he sees.

It's much smaller than his old room, and he doesn't know how he's going to fit all of his instruments in here. His mom seems to get it though, and she touches his arm gently. "I know it's small... but there's an extra room. Me and Brent thought you could keep your instruments in there, honey." His mom tells him.

Patrick swallows hard and nods. He just wants to be at home in Chicago, not this new foreign little town with sky high trees and mountains. It's nerve wracking, to be somewhere like this. He's a city kid and the encroaching wilderness only serves to make him anxious and hope nothing is out there. "Thank you.” He manages to say. He’s thankful for the fact that he has a room for his instruments, but his mother’s moment of kindness doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to be here. She could buy him anything in the world and it wouldn't change his feelings about Juneau. 

He goes into his new room and looks out the window. All he can see is greenery and some of the town below. The neighborhood is higher up than the downtown area, and Patrick has to admit that the view is breathtaking. Alaska, the last frontier, he muses in his mind as he looks out into the trees. There’s a deer, little white spots across it’s back, feeding in the grass laying in the forest just outside their house. Patrick stares at it, and when it lifts it’s head, Patrick feels it’s staring back.

Patrick and his mom meet back up in the kitchen. That too is small, and Patrick can tell his mom is trying hard to hide the fact that she's disappointed. She loves a big kitchen and loves to cook. "Well. I'm tired." Patrick says, for lack of better words.

"Brent will be here soon to help us move in everything. Decided how to arrange your room?" She asks him, heading to the back door. "Come look, Rick." She calls, stepping out onto the porch.

Patrick follows her hesitantly, stepping out into the cold. It's like nothing he's ever seen before, like the trees and the mountain are going to come and swallow up the town whole and leave nothing in its wake. He shivers. It's beautiful, but he can't help but wonder what lives up there. Bears, possibly. The idea of a bear in their backyard definitely makes him feel weird. "Wow." He manages.

"Wow." His mom echoes. "It's beautiful. It's so different..." She trails off, and Patrick catches the slight longing in her tone. He feels anger bubble up in him – she has no right to miss home when she was the one who forced this upon themselves.

Patrick scowls at her again. "We didn't have to move. We could be at home right now." He tells her, voice cold. He's done enough moping and now that they're here, he'll tell her how he feels. "This isn't where we belong." He's sure of it. They belong back in Chicago, with the bustling of the city right nearby and the cold winters and high crime rates. Patrick holds back watery eyes just thinking about the city. They’re so far from it and he hates it here already.

His mom looks hurt. "You haven't given it a chance. What if you end up loving it?" She says, challenging, and Patrick wants to scream at her, wants to yell that he'll never love Juneau, because he misses home and he misses his friends and he doesn't want to live with some man they've known for less than a year.

 

"Trust me. If the day comes, I'll be dead." Patrick deadpans, before he turns on his heel and storms back into the house. It's unfortunate that he has no bed to throw himself onto, so instead he makes his way up to his room and slumps against the wall. "Fuck this." He whispers to himself, but mostly to the wilderness outside.

All he knows is that when he's old enough and has enough money, he's leaving Juneau behind and going back to Chicago, where he fucking belongs. His mom might be insane right now and he wants nothing to do with Brent. He's got a year until he's eighteen, and maybe then he can figure out what to do.

Patrick's unsure how he falls asleep or when, considering the only thing he has is a dusty floor and a hard wall, but when he comes to he's got a stiff neck and back, and he can hear voices downstairs. His mom is talking to Brent, and she sounds happy. Patrick wishes he could feel as happy as she did.

He gets up and makes his way downstairs, wincing when his back pops. He feels old. Two days of driving really ages someone, he thinks. Patrick heads into the living room and stops when he sees Brent, trying not to scowl at the sight of him and failing.

"Oh, hey, Rick!" Brent greets. Patrick frowns at him.

"Don't call me that." Patrick tells him, voice sharp. Only his mother and siblings call him that - he's not going to let some stranger try to fit themselves into his life like that. If Brent wanted to call him that, he would have to earn it.

Patrick's mom frowns right back at him and Brent raises his hands. "Okay, Patrick. How do you like Juneau so far? It's beautiful, right?" Brent asks him, fishing for another attempt to try and talk to Patrick.

Patrick's irritated by the fact that all people can seem to say about Juneau is that it's beautiful. Sure, it might be, but he hasn't heard anything about the actual town or the people living in it - the town could be full of serial killers for all he knew. If only his mother had taken the time to stop and really think about what she was getting the two of them into.

“There’s even a little record store in town. They might be hiring. Most places usually are.” Brent tells him when all Patrick does is remain silent and glower at him. He looks a little uncomfortable now and Patrick just feels satisfied that he’s made Brent uncomfortable. The prospect of a record shop is interesting though – he figures that he can maybe apply for a job there and even if he doesn’t get hired, he’ll still be able to check out cool records. They might have stuff that Reckless Records back at home didn’t have.

So, while he doesn’t respond to Brent, he files the information away for later. “We’re going to start moving stuff into the house, Patrick. I need you to help me and Brent.” Patrick nods at her, hiding his frown. He’ll help her – he’s definitely not helping Brent with anything. Brent was part of the reason they were even standing in this little house in Juneau. If it hadn’t been for him, he’d still be at home, in bed or playing his guitar.

The next couple of hours are spent moving things into the house. It’s difficult and Patrick hates it. He hates moving in the couch and seeing Brent smiling at him on the other side of it, hates trying to get the bed frame and mattress up the stairs and into his and the master bedrooms, hates every moment of moving everything in. 

Moving all his boxes into his room takes a lot of time and he almost regrets having so much stuff before he remembers that if they hadn’t moved, he wouldn’t have had to pack up everything and have sore back right now. They don’t have time to move everything into the house before it gets dark, and it gets dark significantly later. It’s almost ten when the sun finally goes down, and Patrick thinks it’s weird. Brent tells him that the sun will rise around four, and Patrick makes a mental note to curse Brent out when he wakes up in the morning and buy black out curtains as soon as he can.

He’s glad when he’s finally able to collapse into his bed. He’d put the sheets on quickly and it wasn’t perfect, but it reminds him so much of home. He curls around his pillow and stares out into his new room. The walls are closer than before and it’s bare at the moment, aside from the bed, a table, and boxes. The walls are way too blank for Patrick to be comfortable with, and he moves putting posters up to the top of his checklist. If he has to stare at the blank white walls for any longer, Patrick figures he might just go as insane as his mother.

Patrick sleeps, but it’s not satisfying in the least. He dreams of home through his fitful sleep, and he tosses and turns throughout the entire night. When Patrick awakens sometime before five, he curses Brent silently, fuming over the fact that he’s awake before noon on a summer day. He turns over and burrows under his covers to get back to sleep, feeling more tired than he did when he went to bed.

Patrick wakes up again sometime after eleven, and he’s more satisfied this time when he wakes up. He feels like he actually slept on a bed and not outdoors on the ground, which is saying something about his discomfort. He rises slowly, climbing out of bed like one of the undead and shuffling downstairs. He’s starving now that he’s not sulking – he’s too tired to sulk and knowing his mother, she won’t make him anything if he voices his upset. So Patrick heads downstairs quietly, eyelids drooping.

“Morning, Patrick.” His mother says when he enters the too small kitchen. She pushes a bag of kolaches towards him. “I went out this morning to town to buy breakfast since we have to go grocery shopping.” She explains to him, sensing his confusion. His mother always made breakfast. It was a big part of Patrick’s life, actually, and the fact that he's eating store bought kolaches instead of a home cooked meal is a bit upsetting to his daily routine. "The town is so lovely, Rick. All the little shops and all the trees and the roads! It’s all so nice. You should go out later to check it out. Who knows, maybe you'll make some friends.” She tells him as he digs through the bag and pulls out a kolache. Patrick's doubts he will, and the kolache tastes different from the ones at home. “Brent’s gone to go buy some stuff for the house. We’re going to finish moving everything in today.”

Patrick nods, silent. Even though it’s nearing noon, it’s still much too early for him to muster up the strength to hold a conversation. He sits there sleepily, listening to his mother talk as he eats. It’s so quiet, except for birds chirping and bugs making noise outside. It’s weird and feels almost eerie – Patrick’s not sure if he’s ever going to be able to get used to it. 

Brent comes in a while later, bursting into the house happily and making Patrick jump out of his seat. He practically waltzes over to his mom and plants a kiss on her lips – Patrick pretends to gag from across the counter. Patrick’s aware it’s probably childish of him to do so, but he feels he has every right to. If he wants to hate Brent, he feels like he’s definitely allowed to. Besides, Brent's way too happy for so early in the day.

"Good morning, my lovely family!" Brent says, and Patrick scowls into his food. He's definitely not a part of Brent's family, no matter what he or his mother says. "I went grocery shopping, I just need to bring the bags into the house."

Patrick's mom smiles at Brent. "Patrick, go help Brent bring the bags in." Patrick wants to protest, but knows doing so will just lead to trouble. So, instead, he stands and huffs, shuffling out the door and following Brent to his car.

It's dreary out again, and freaking cold. "Does it ever get warm?" Patrick mumbles, half to himself and half to Brent. 

Brent chuckles, and Patrick hates him for it. "Not really. It's usually in the sixties during the summer and gets in the twenties during the winter." Patrick shivers just thinking about it. Chicago was cold, but at least it had four seasons. Juneau seemed to just have one - winter.

Patrick grabs bags from the trunk of Brent's car, piling them onto his arm. Brent does the same, and when they've all the bags, Brent closes the trunk. Patrick turns to head inside, but Brent stops him. "Hold on, Patrick."

He wants to roll his eyes and keep walking. Instead, he stays silent and turns back to face Brent. "I know we haven't had the best of relationships, but I want you to know that I care about your mom, and I care about you."

Patrick doesn't stay to hear the rest of his shtick. He's heard enough and he knows its bullshit. Patrick turns around and heads back inside, and Brent calls his name, but he ignores it. He doesn't want to hear it.

He puts the grocery bags onto the counter and his mom smiles at him. "Thank you, Patrick. You should unpack your stuff today." 

Patrick plasters on a fake smile. "Okay." He doesn't particularly feel like going through box after box, but it's got to get done and he thinks he might feel more at home if he does unpack everything. He knows he can't quite get his room here to look like it did back at home, but at least he can make it more comfortable looking.

He heads upstairs when Brent enters the house again, not wanting to hear or see him. He's aware that he might have some irrational hatred towards Brent, but he just can't bring himself to care. Patrick's pretty sure Brent's probably a serial killer and is just waiting for the right time to kill them and hide their bodies in the forest.

There's a million and one boxes in his room and Patrick doesn't know where to start. He figures he should start with clothes, that way he at least has shit to wear. His new closet is small and he hopes it's going to fit everything - if not he'll have to shove some clothes into the dresser.

Patrick unpacks, hanging up shirts and folding ratty jeans. Most of his jeans have holes in them and he smiles to himself. He's not sure if ratty jeans are in style in Juneau, but he supposes there's only one way to find out. 

He hangs up his band shirts lovingly, taking more care with those than the rest of his clothing. Patrick shoves shoes into the corner of his closet, bringing out his newest pair and setting them by his bed. When he looks at how many pairs of shoes he really has he realizes he's kind of spoiled - no teenager should have that many pairs - and he feels the slightest bit of guilt for treating his mom so badly the past month.

Patrick slowly unpacks everything, setting up the digital clock he has and watching the hours tick by. One of the first things he gets out is his record player, and he digs through his box of records to find something to play. 

For a few moments after Bowie's playing, his voice filling his new room, Patrick sits in the floor, back to his bed, and closes his eyes, letting it wash over him. He misses home, and if he closes his eyes tight enough, he can imagine he's back in Chicago, listening to his records loop as he does his homework or plays video games. The record blocks out all the chirping from birds and bugs, and Patrick wants to just cocoon himself in the music and never leave.

After those few precious moments, though, he keeps unpacking and making his room home again. Patrick puts up posters and pictures of himself and friends together, trying to cover as much of the white walls as possible. Once he's finished with that he steps back to admire it all. Patrick's tried to recreate his bedroom in Chicago and it's only half worked - the longer he looks at this room the more he wants to cry.

It takes the better half of the day to unpack all of his stuff and get it to how he wants, and when he's finally satisfied, he sighs and sits down on his bed. He needs a rug, and curtains, and Patrick wonders if his mom will let him go out and buy those two things. She'll probably allow him to if he reminds her that he's sad about the move.

Patrick dresses, changing out of his pajamas into jeans and an old faded band shirt. He pulls on his new sneakers and heads back downstairs, delighted to see his mom cooking and Brent nowhere to be seen. "Mom," he says, approaching her and taking a seat at the small bar. "Can I go buy some curtains and stuff for my room? I woke up really early because it was bright." He explains to her, hoping for the best.

She turns and raises an eyebrow. "Maybe waking up that early is good for you. It might make you go to bed earlier." His mom says, and Patrick wants to cry. He doesn't want to wake up early, and he knows that she knows that he's a night owl. He's up late and asleep late. It's just how he's always been.

"Mom, please." Patrick sighs, giving her his best puppy look. As the youngest, he's definitely perfected it over the years. "I can take your car and be back before dinner. I promise."

His mom seems to mull it over for a moment before she nods. "Okay, Rick. Keys are by the front door. Be careful - you don't know these streets." She says.

Patrick nods and hurries to the front door, grabbing the keys off a little hook. "Be back soon!" He calls, heading out of the house and for the first time in a while, feeling free.

When he gets into the car he debates just leaving - driving back to Chicago. Of course, Patrick's not sure where he would stay or how he would even get there - it would take a while and even if he doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want his mom to worry. He's a momma's boy, and deep down he knows it.

So, instead of driving away from Juneau, Patrick just sighs and starts up the engine, heading down into town. The streets are darker than Chicago's, even at five in the afternoon, and bumpier. More wild. Everything was more wild in Juneau, though.

Patrick's not even sure where he would buy curtains and a rug. There's not the typical shops of Chicago, just smaller stores and a supermarket or two. He's driving down in town, admiring the old roads and streetlights when he spots the record store. He hesitates, but then pulls into the store and parks the car. 

It's a small little place, and it's definitely no Reckless Records, but just the sight of something familiar brings him joy. He heads inside after locking the car, and he's met with a burst of warm air as he enters and the sound of a bell chiming.

"Welcome to Sound Exchange." Comes a voice. Patrick searches for the source and spots a curly haired, sleepy looking teenager. The place is bigger than the outside suggests, and chock full of records. Patrick's already half in love, and likes it despite the fact that it's no Reckless Records. "Are you looking for anything particular today?" The teenager asks.

"Um, no. Thank you though." Patrick says, giving a half hearted smile. He's just here to look and even then he's not really supposed to be here. He told his mom he'd be shopping for curtains - not browsing records.

But he can't just turn around and walk out, not when he just entered the store. So Patrick sinks into an aisle of records, hoping he isn't blushing with embarrassment. He's not even sure what possessed him to enter the store, but now that he's here, he's gotta spend a good ten minutes browsing.

Patrick goes through the records, not looking for anything in particular, but attempting to look like he is searching for something. Social anxiety makes him sink lower when the teenager at the counter catches his eye, and he blushes deeper. Why was he like this?

The teenager looks him over. "Never seen you in here before. And I know most of the regulars. What's your name? I'm Joe. Joe Trohman." The teenager, Joe, says this all in one breath, a curious smile on his face. Patrick wants to sink into the floor and never come up.

Instead, Patrick rubs at his arm and heads over to the counter that Joe's leaning over against his better judgement. It too has records piled on it and the display under it has some rarer ones Patrick's never seen before. "I'm Patrick Stump. I just moved here." He explains, picking up an older vinyl and admiring the cover art. 

"Oh! Where from? And why to Juneau?" Joe asks, looking interested. Patrick's sure he doesn't get a lot of teen customers who have just moved in. "Interesting choice." Joe's tone suggests that it's not that interesting though.

Patrick sighs. "Chicago. And 'cause stuff. And yeah. Tell me about it." He's not particularly interested in letting someone know all his business.

Joe seems to sense that and backs off a little. "Well, there's a lot of cool stuff to do around here. I know it probably doesn't seem like much, but there's some awesome stuff going on around here." Patrick perks up at that, looking at Joe curiously. "Maybe I could show you around?"

Patrick debates it in his head. On one hand, he wants to say no because he wants nothing to do with Juneau, but on the other hand, he doesn't want to be friendless here for the next year. And besides, Joe was a local and probably knew some cool places that Patrick would never be able to find on his own.

"Okay. That sounds interesting." Patrick says, a little bewildered that he's made a friend already. Well, not quite a friend, but an acquaintance, at the very least. "Um, yeah." He says, for lack of better words and social awkwardness. 

Joe smiles at him, genuine and Patrick feels good about it. "Okay. So this is Sound Exchange, obviously." He chuckles and it feels right to laugh with him, so Patrick does. "Um, it's our only record store... and we've gotta decent stock. You just gotta look through it to find what something really good." 

Patrick nods. Reckless Records was like that, too. "I would, but I told my mom I'd back soon. Is there anywhere that like... sells furniture stuff?" He asks, furrowing his brow. Joe would probably know, especially since he was a local.

"Try the furniture warehouse. It's not far from here. I can give you directions?" Joe says, and fumbles to find a piece of paper and a pen. Patrick watches, slightly amused. Joe seems nice, he thinks, and he hopes that Joe will be true to his word and show him around Juneau sometime. It was bad enough moving to a new town, but being friendless in a new town was even worse.

Patrick was never one to have many friends, choosing to stick with his small collection of them. They were band nerds, like him, and Patrick hopes that Joe working at Sound Exchange means that he's a music nerd. He doesn't have to be on Patrick's level, but Patrick hopes he at least knows something about it.

Joe writes down directions and Patrick scratches at his arm nervously. He hopes that Joe doesn't stand him up and never talk to him again. That would kind of suck. 

"Okay, here you go. I wrote down my number too, that way I can show you around town sometime." Joe says, all friendly. Patrick appreciates it, and appreciates the fact that Joe seems to be talking first and making conversation. Patrick was bad at making conversation and was an awkward mess outside of his friends - he tried but most of the time he failed to really grasp the concept of good conversation.

Patrick takes the paper and smiles gratefully. "Thanks, Joe." He says, inspecting the paper. Joe's detailed out every turn and street name, something he's grateful for. 

Joe says goodbye to him and he leaves the store, feeling all around a little better about Juneau. He still hates the place, but the fact that he's got some semblance of a friend now makes him feel more at home. It wasn't good for a teenager to not have friends, and Patrick, despite all the social awkwardness and anxiety, was a pretty talkative person when he wanted to be.

Driving through Juneau and following Joe's directions was fairly easy. He doesn't get lost and the streets aren't too busy, considering it's a Saturday afternoon, but it's just before six and people are probably just getting off of work. He figures that the ride back home will be a little slower, and so he relishes the quietness of the streets and takes in his surroundings.

Juneau really is beautiful. There's a river south of town he can see as he drives down alongside it, and when he glances to his left he sees the mountains, tall and snowy at the top. He recalls his mother telling him that Juneau doesn't actually have any roads connecting to any other cities, and that the only way out is by ferry. When he looks down at the river and up at the mountains, he realizes just how isolated Juneau is in the wilderness, how so much could happen here and how so many little people would know. It's an intimidating thought, and Patrick keeps his eyes on the road for the remainder of the drive after that.

Patrick buys curtains and a rug for his room at the Furniture Warehouse, shoving them into his mothers car and starting up the drive back to his house. He can't bring himself to think of it as a home at the moment. When he tries it feels strange and so Patrick just refers to it as a house. Home is where the heart is, and his heart is back in Chicago.

He nearly gets lost on the way back home, but makes it. He's relieved to see the house, something he'd never admit to thinking, but he's relieved all the same. Just that small outing has worn him out and he feels like he could sleep for days - there's nothing else he wants to do. 

Patrick remembers Joe as he's carrying the curtains and rugs inside though, and smiles to himself. He figures he can take Joe up on his offer for a tour of the city soon, and decides he'll text Joe about it. He's glad to have gotten his number.

"Hey, 'Rick. Did you find curtains?" His mother asks once he's in the house. It seems like he's back just in time for dinner and he's definitely glad about that. 

"Yeah. And a rug to spice up the room." He says, holding it up. It's heavy, and he puts it down on the couch before he moves into the kitchen. "I went by that record store. There's this boy that works here and he offered to give me a tour of Juneau." Patrick tells his mom, sitting down at their brand new kitchen table. He doesn't like it. It's far too different and far too new from the one they had at home.

His mother makes a pleased noise and turns around. "Good! I'm glad you're making friends, Ricky. I promise, once you go around the city, you'll love it. Brent says there's a lot of stuff to do."

Patrick rolls his eyes. "Brent says a lot of stuff." He counters, not feeling bad about his words. He wants to lash out again, tell his mother how he really feels about all this, but he holds back. 

"Patrick, would you stop!" His mother exclaims, turning towards him with hurt written on her face. "All you've done is complain since we've got here and you don't even want to take the chance to get to know the city!" She's definitely upset and Patrick feels a little bad about making her mad.

"Because I don't want to be here! I had one year left of high school and you decided you didn't care and decided to move us across the country! How do you think I've been feeling for the past month!?" Patrick nearly shouts before he controls himself. He takes a shaky breath and rubs at his eyes, throat right. "You haven't give me a second thought in all this. All you do is care about Brent!"

He stands up, flustered, and rushes out of the room and up to his own. Patrick can't fucking do this, he just can't. He knows that he might be being over dramatic, but it's all he can do. Patrick's mother has acknowledged his distaste at moving and has acknowledged how he feels about it, but she still doesn't care. If she had cared, they wouldn't be here.

Patrick swallows hard and moves over to his record player, putting in a record and breathing harshly, like he's run a mile. He wants to cry, and so he does, hot and nasty like he hasn't done in a while. 

He can't even bring himself to climb into his bed - he just slumps down onto the floor and sobs, head in his hands. He fucking hates this. He hates feeling so useless and out of control in life, hates that all he can do is sit and cry. It's hot and nasty and he's so damn done with everything - with this town, with his mom, with fucking everyone that makes him feel invalid.

Patrick cries and cries, until his head starts to ache and his hands are wet with tears and snot. He feels younger than he ever has in his life - and all he wants is for things to go back to how they were before. He's not sure how long he cries for but all he knows is that his head aches and he's dead tired once he finally runs out of tears.

Once he realizes how long he's cried for, he feels pathetic. Patrick's seventeen years old and here he is, crying and crying like he hasn't for years. He's embarrassed, and he's glad that know one saw him cry like that. 

Despite feeling embarrassed, he does feel a little better once it's all done. That kind of cry will last him a while before he has to do it again.

Patrick stands up slowly, head aching and every muscle protesting. Patrick kind of just wants to sleep on the floor - climbing up onto his bed seems like too much of a challenge. It feels like scaling Mount Juneau as he climbs into it, exhausted and hungry. He needs to rest for a moment and then head back downstairs to grab some food.

He won't apologize for his feelings, but he might apologize for being rude. After crying, Patrick's aware that he was rude to her and he really doesn't want to apologize, but he knows it's the right thing to do. "Fuck." He whispers to himself, rubbing at his eyes and yawning. He's so damn tired.

Patrick gives himself a couple of minutes to recover before he heaves himself up off his bed and takes a shaky breath. Anything would be better than this. He heads to the bathroom and splashes his face with cool water before he goes back downstairs, feeling exhausted and wanting to just fucking get out of Juneau and never come back.

His mother is silent when he walks into the kitchen, and Patrick doesn't blame her. Brent's still nowhere to be seen and he's at glad that Brent wasn't here to witness his outburst. 

"I'm sorry." He croaks out, siding at the sound of his voice. He feels like shit, and his head fucking aches. "I shouldn't have been like that." Patrick whispers, closing his eyes. The bright light of the kitchen bulbs seems to be burning them and he doesn't like it.

She remains silent again, and Patrick feels his heart pick up speed. "Patrick, I just want you to understand that this is our home now. I'm marrying Brent because I love him and I just want you to get to know him." She says softly, turning to look at him. "Can you just give it a chance?"

Patrick stares at for a long time, wanting to shake his head. Juneau is a strange place with strange people and he doesn't want to get to know it. He wants to go back to Chicago.

Instead, he musters up a fake smile and nods. "Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy! I feel like this isn't as well received as Start with Emotion, but I'm way more invested in this fic, haha
> 
> Also, I'm going on a trip! This means the next chapter or start with Emotion will be up Monday or Tuesday, and same with this fic!

The day after his outburst and crying session, Patrick felt considerably worse.

Despite telling his mom he'd give Juneau a chance, he nearly changes his mind once he wakes up. He sleeps in later this time, and Patrick's thankful for that at the very least. The blackout curtains had done wonders for him, but there were still birds chirping annoyingly outside and he wishes he had the stomach and skill to shoot and gun them all down.

He groans when he wakes up, and blearily grabs for his glasses. His hand hits a piece of paper, and when Patrick sits up and looks at it in confusion, he realizes it's the piece of paper Joe gave him. Patrick realizes then that he hadn't texted Joe or even put his number in his phone, and he feels a little bad about that.

Patrick grabs the sheet of paper and yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he inputs the number into his phone. He figures that the first step in giving Juneau a chance is giving the people a chance. Namely Joe, and hoping Joe would like him and help him change his mind about Juneau.

**Hey, it's Patrick! Sorry I didn't text yesterday. Hope I can take you up on your offer?**

Patrick feels a little silly for texting that, but he's not sure how else to say he accepts his offer for a little tour of Juneau. He wants to stay out of the house as much as he can so he can avoid Brent, and if this is the way to do so, then he's going to jump on it.

While he's waiting for Joe to answer back, Patrick hops in the shower. It takes him a couple of minutes to figure out how to work the knobs, and he stands there naked and shivering as he tries to figure it out.

Cold water pours through once he gets it going, and he stifles a shriek. He fucking hates cold showers - at home his mother would often complain about him using up all the hot water with how hot and how long he showered for.

He almost wishes that he was an early riser so that he could use up all the hot water before Brent had the chance to shower, but knowing Brent, he'd probably be one for cold showers anyway, the bastard. Because Brent was perfect and Brent never fucking complained.

Patrick scowls at the thought of him, and wants to cry when he realizes he can't get the shower to run hot. The shower is way too complicated and different from the one he had at home in Chicago. So Patrick showers cold for the first time in forever, cursing his new house, Brent, and all of Juneau for making him take a cold shower before noon.

His mom is nowhere to be seen when he heads downstairs after his shower, hair dripping. However, when turns the corner into the kitchen to search for food, Brent's standing there.

Patrick immediately regrets his decision to enter the kitchen. "Hey, Patrick! You're finally awake. You sure do sleep in late!" Brent says, far too fucking cheery. Patrick wants to scream. "I was thinking that maybe I could show you around Juneau today."

Patrick would rather drop dead. Instead, he grits his teeth and stops himself from vocalizing his thoughts. "Actually, I met this boy at Sound Exchange. He was going to show me around." Patrick explains, proud of himself for not cursing Brent out.

"Oh. Okay. Well, maybe I could take you out for dinner later?" Brent says, a smile still on his face. "Your mom is going to be out all day. She's job hunting and running errands."

That explained where his mom was, at the very least. But Patrick definitely does not want to eat dinner with Brent. In fact, he doesn't even want to be in the same room with him.

"Yeah... I don't know." Patrick says, rubbing his arm and moving towards the pantry. He grabs a bag of chips and starts to slide out of the room, avoiding Brent's eyes.

"No food upstairs, Patrick." Brent tells him, and Patrick wants to scoff at him.

Instead, he just goes upstairs anyways, not giving a damn about what Brent has to say. Brent has no right to act like his fucking parent all of a sudden, especially when he's just his mother's boyfriend. Well, fiancé, but that's besides the point.

Patrick checks his phone and is delighted to see a text back from Joe. He's a little nervous to open it, though, in case Joe tells him he's changed his mind and that Patrick can tour himself around Juneau.

**Hey!!!! Ok that sounds good. gotta lot of cool places around Juneau to show u. I can even pick u up?**

Patrick smiles at his phone. It feels like his first real smile in ages, and it hurts his cheeks if he even smiles for just a moment. It feels like all he's been doing lately is frowning.

There's a knock on his bedroom door after a moment, and Patrick rolls his eyes. Brent. "Patrick, open up! I told you, no food upstairs!" Brent beats on his door again, and Patrick chooses to ignore it. Again, Brent isn't his father and he's not listening to orders from him.

**yeah! that would be good. I live on 262 Elk Drive. You can come whenever.**

Brent knocks on his door again. "I'm going to tell your mother about this!" Brent threatens, and Patrick scoffs. He doesn't care what Brent or his mother thinks. If she's cared what he thought, they wouldn't be here and Brent wouldn't be knocking down his door.

"Be my guest!" Patrick shouts, feeling satisfied when Brent stops knocking on his door and he hears footsteps going away from his door.

Patrick puts down his phone and gets ready, grabbing a light jacket. He's used to the cold of Chicago, not the cold of Juneau. It's different somehow, but everything seems to be different in Juneau. Patrick doesn't like that.

He checks his phone again, hoping to see a text from Joe. Thankfully, there's one, and Patrick doesn't want to be around to witness the wrath of his mother.

**be there in twenty!**

Good, he's glad that Joe will be at his house soon. Patrick takes the moment to look around his room, sighing. Despite the fact that he's put posters up and pictures of back home up, he still feels painfully isolated and doesn't feel like this room is really his own.

It feels like he's a puppet or a doll in a little house that someone else is controlling. Like someone is tugging all the wrong strings to make his life hell. Whatever puppeteer thought it would be fun to introduce Brent to him and his mother is sick. Patrick hopes they suffer a fate crueler than death.

"Fuck." Patrick whispers to himself. He feels like he's been doing that a lot lately. "This tour better be good." He says softly, turning to look out the window. From this view, Juneau looks like a fairly normal American town. Houses. A downtown area. Trees. Granted, the mountain is a little different, but Patrick wants to know what else Juneau has to offer besides a good view.

A white van pulls up after a bit of Patrick just staring out of the window, trying desperately to just know what Juneau is holding. It's like it's full of secrets or hidden treasure. Patrick hopes the treasure sucks. When he gets a text from Joe after a moment, he knows the white van is his, and he heads downstairs.

As he's pulling open the front door, Brent stops him. "Where do you think you're going? Your mom says you're grounded." Brent tells him, annoyance in his tone. Patrick scoffs at him, wanting to laugh at how fucking ridiculous Brent sounds. Grounding him? He's not letting a stranger ground him.

"Yeah, well, you're not my dad. And frankly, I just don't care." Patrick spits, closing the door behind him and making his way down to Joe's van.

He's never been one to be so spiteful and he's definitely never been one to break his mothers rules or to disobey her word, but he just doesn't fucking care anymore. She could ground him all she wanted, but he just doesn't give a damn. There's no reason to - not when she hadn't gave a damn about him for the past while.

Patrick's feeling particularly rebellious as he pulls open the passenger door. "Trying to kidnap me? Or do you have free candy, by any chance?"

Joe's sitting at the wheel, and he laughs whenever he hears his words. "Hey! And if you want the free candy, it's in the back." It's punctuated with a wink that makes Patrick instantly feel more comfortable. "Nice house, by the way. I live a couple streets down, on Rose Court." Joe explains as he climbs in.

Despite the fact that they've only had one conversation, Patrick feels pretty at ease with Joe. There's a kind of comforting air about him, something so chill and relaxing that Patrick just takes a deep breath and smiles back. He feels better now that he's out of that damn house. "It's all right. Smaller than the one I had in Chicago. Not to be like, a spoiled brat, or whatever."

Joe laughs, and Patrick likes it. It's suiting. "I don't know anything else besides Juneau, but Chicago sounds cool. I've been to NYC once, but it kinda freaked me out." Joe says, beginning to pull away from the house. Patrick's glad to see it go.

"Why?"

"All those tall buildings. There was no green anywhere. No mountains. It's weird. I'm an inside kind of guy, but nature's got this big part in my life, growing up in Alaska. You'll get it once you live here lone enough." Joe explains, and Patrick notices he has a lisp.

It's cute, in some kind of way, but that thought alarms Patrick and he shoves it away immediately. Cute? Guys weren't cute. "I grew up in the city, so this is kind of the opposite for me. I'm freaking out looking at these mountains!" Patrick laughs, pushing away his other thoughts. That was for another time. Joe laughs too, and Patrick gets it. Being somewhere totally different is kind of awful.

"So, like, the thing about Juneau is that everything to do here is outside. I mean, I'm an inside person but I love going to these places." Joe tells Patrick, glancing over at him. He's got his curly hair in a bun and Patrick notices a tattoo peeking out from under his shirt sleeve.

Patrick laughs. "Oh man, I'm not an outside person." It's true.

"Well, good thing it's cold out, right?"

That's also true. Patrick's glad now that they moved to Juneau and not someplace in Texas. He'll get used to the cold in no time, but getting used to Texas heats would be another thing. "I'm gonna take you to the tramway. It takes us up Mount Roberts and there's some trails up there, too. Trust me, it's worth being outside for."

Patrick sure hopes so. "We have to go down to the docks to get on the tram. It's like a five minute ride to the top." Joe says, and when he glances at Patrick again, he spots a lip piercing. He's not sure how he hadn't noticed it until just now, but it's definitely something interesting.

"You have a lip ring? And tattoos?" Patrick says, though he voices it like a question. "How old are you?" Patrick asks. If he's got tattoos, than he's probably eighteen, right?

But Joe grins at him knowingly. "Just turned seventeen. You can get a tattoo at seventeen with your parents consent." Patrick blinks at him. If Joe just turned seventeen, then he's probably younger than Patrick. "How old are you? And do you have any secret tattoos I should know about?"

"Seventeen. Born in April." Patrick says, laughing. "And no, no secret tattoos. I'm kind of afraid of needles." It's a little silly, but Patrick's sure he's been traumatized by a visit to the doctor from when he was a child. "They're so cool though."

Joe chuckles and haphazardly pulls up sleeve to show off the tattoo. They swerve lightly, but it just makes Patrick laugh instead of fear for his life. Anything could happen and he doesn't think he'd particularly care.

"I've got a friend I think you'd like. He's cool. He plays in a band, too. Juneau's kind of small, but he gets a decent crowd." Joe says, putting both hands on the steering wheel once Patrick's had the moment to examine the tattoo. Patrick glances out the window, and it's all trees and overcast sky.

He's not sure if he wants to meet other people. It's not that he's antisocial, but there's this niggling worry deep down that he doesn't want to voice.

Instead, he smiles. "Sure. What's his name?"

"Pete Wentz. He's older. Like... twenty two, I think?" Joe says. "I'll have to introduce you one day."

Patrick turns and looks back out the window. They're getting closer to the docks, and Patrick can see the tram. "Yeah. One day." Patrick says softly, unable to tear his eyes away from the view down here.

Up higher in town the view had been of the town area, the docks, and the river, but now it's of the mountain. Patrick can really see how enormous it is, and all he can think of is it all crumbling down. He's definitely not cut out for this kind of nature.

They pull up to a red building a few minutes later, and Joe parks the van. "All right, here's the tramway." Joe says, and they climb out of the van and head to the short line.

While they're waiting, Patrick looks up, admiring how the mountains rise up above the clouds. "So like, this is so weird for me. Mountains are different from skyscrapers."

Joe looks too. "Yeah, well. Mountains are forever. Not a lot of things are."

"Surprisingly deep from a seventeen year old who drives a white van." Patrick teases, hesitating lightly before he says it. While Joe's a friendly guy, he's not a hundred percent sure on how he'll react to teasing. He hardly know him at all.

But Joe just laughs and shakes his head. "I mean, it's true! I can be smart when I want!"

Patrick feels like he's talking to an old friend rather than a brand new one. "Could have fooled me."

"All right, then, city kid. Let's see how you handle the tram," Joe says when they're next in line. "Hope you're not afraid of heights."

Patrick's not terribly afraid of them, but the thought of riding all the way up does cause a little twinge in his gut. There's no way he's chickening out, though. "I think I can handle it."

When the next tram slides in they climb in with a couple of other people, doors closing. Patrick feels rising anxiousness and excitement all at the same time, and he can't help but wonder why Joe is doing this for him. He hardly knows him and Joe's not a tour guide.

Patrick turns to face Joe. "Why are you doing this?" He asks quietly, catching his gaze. Joe's got clear blue eyes, some of the bluest he's ever seen. Patrick's are blue, but not like that. "Like, taking me around Juneau? I'm new here and I'm kind of weird, actually." He's probably just ruined his chance at a good friendship, but today's he's in a weird mood and Patrick just doesn't care what he messes up anymore.

Joe furrows his brow and frowns, confused. "You seem like a nice guy, Patrick. And I get it, you know? What being alone is like. If you'd let me, I'd like to be your friend." Patrick swallows hard and nods after a moment, turning back around. He feels so stupid, so childish, but he wants to cry. Lately, everything seems to be making him want to cry. He was never a crier in the first place, but now it seems like it's all he can do.

"Thank you." Patrick whispers, closing his eyes and leaning against the tram window.

They begin to move and Patrick jolts, holding onto the railing. Joe chuckles next to him and holds on too, but looks much more at ease.

The tram lifts them up and up and up, and Patrick's enthralled by the view. A minute in he can see the river and the mountains on the other side of it, the small town across the river. But as it rises higher and higher up the tracks, he can see Juneau, can see it getting further and further away from them as they rise higher into the air.

It's like nothing Patrick's ever seen before, and it's so beautiful that he can't tear his eyes away. "Wow." Patrick whispers, for lack of betters words. He's mostly speechless about the view, and for once, he doesn't miss Chicago.

"Right?" Joe says softly. "The first time I saw this I was really little. I come sometimes, and even though I live here, I love it every time." Patrick can definitely see why. "You should come at night one time. You haven't seen anything else like it."

Patrick thinks he might have, though. He remembers being on Lake Michigan in a boat during the night, doing some late night Chicago tour. He loved doing things like that, things that took him around Chicago, because he loved the city and he loved that it was always so alive.

He'll never forget that first time he saw all of Chicago, lit up like a Christmas tree, from the boat, speeding along. It was beautiful, in a different way from Juneau, and Patrick suddenly aches for it all over again.

"God, I miss Chicago." Patrick sighs, still unable to look away. "Would you miss Juneau if you moved away?"

"Of course. I mean, it's small and it's no Chicago or anything, but it's home. Leaving your home sucks. But I mean... maybe you can make Juneau home. I'd try to make some other place home." Joe explains, and Patrick doesn't believe how wise he seems for a teenager. It's equal parts strange and relieving. Strange because Joe's younger than him and relieving because maybe Joe's right.

They ride up in relative silence for the rest of it. It's only a couple minutes more and Patrick can't believe the view. When they get off at the top, there's a trail and they stop in front of it.

"I'm not gonna make you hike the trail but it's really not too bad. The views are worth it." Joe says, running his arm. "I've hiked it like a million times."

Patrick considers it. If he says yes, then they'll have to spend time hiking - which is something he never anticipated he'd do - if he says no, then they'll have to go do something else or he'll have to go home. And he definitely doesn't want to go home. Not when he's sure that his mother is going to be pissed at him for mouthing off.

"Sure, why the hell not?" Patrick says, giving Joe a smile. "You gotta tell me about Juneau while we hike though."

They start walking along the trail, side by side. There's some other people hiking along the trail as well, and Patrick notices they're dressed in considerably more appropriate hiking clothes. "You can tell who tourists are by how they dress." Joe says. "They dress like they expect temperatures in the negatives."

Patrick chuckles. He can see that. "Juneau gets cold in the winter for sure, though. It's summer though, so whales usually come through the river. Maybe you'll see one this summer."

That's definitely pretty cool. Seeing a whale in the wild? Patrick's never thought about that, but now that he is thinking about it, he realizes that would be pretty fucking awesome to see.

They hike the trail together, taking turns asking questions. Patrick learns that Joe plays guitar and that he's pretty much a math genius. In return, Patrick tells Joe about all the instruments he plays and Joe insists that they get together to jam sometime.

And, despite the fact that they've only known each other for a short time, Patrick feels at ease talking to him and feels like they've known each other for longer than they really have. It's nice, to have a friend that he just clicks with like that. Even back at home he'd lacked a friend quite like Joe. With Joe, even though it's only been a few hours, it feels right.

Patrick's glad to have a friend like him.

At one point, as they're taking the tram back down, he gets a text from his mother. She's angry, like he expected her to be, and she demands him get home immediately. But Patrick ignores it and turns off his cellphone. He's going to play the angsty teen part if he wants to. He's never played it before but he thinks he's pretty damn good at it so far.

"My moms going to kill me when I get home." Patrick says once they're leaving the tram building. He's thoroughly enjoyed the views and hiking but he wants to go somewhere indoors, preferably with food and water.

Joe laughs as they get into his van. Patrick still feels like he's climbing into a pedophiles sex den, but he blames the media for that. "Why?"

"I disrespected her stupid boyfriend. Fiancé, whatever. He's not my dad and he's definitely not telling me what to do."

Joe looks at him in surprise. "Really? Wow. Build up that teen angst, man." Patrick shakes his head and laughs lightly. Truth be told, it fucking sucks. He's had a good time with Joe so far but he definitely doesn't want to go home and get back to reality. Knowing his mother, she won't want him to leave the house for a week.

But the thing is, he's not sure he would mind. Outside of Joe, there's nothing he wants to do in Juneau. Staying at home in bed seems like the best option, the only thing left to do. It's depressing, but Patrick's tired of everything.

"Yeah... I think I gotta get home. I had fun today, Joe. Can't believe I even went hiking." Patrick tells Joe, who nods.

He desperately doesn't want to go home, but there's no point in continuing to avoid his mothers wrath. He's just delaying the inevitable and he's fucking tired, too. If she grounds him he can at least take a nap.

He's filled with dread as they pull up to his house. From the outside it seems so innocent, a perfect little family living inside with no problems whatsoever. He knows the truth though, Patrick thinks bitterly. There's a mom whose getting married to a stranger and a son whose losing himself and everything else. It's disheartening, and he sighs once they park.

"Well, thanks for coming with me today, Patrick. I hope we can hang out again soon." Joe says, looking hopefully. Patrick smiles, and he knows it'll be his last one for a while.

"I'll see you Joe. That is, if my mother doesn't kill me first."

The walk to the front door feels like a funeral march - his mother is going to kill him and dance on his grave for what he did. It was stupid of him, but it's all he feels he can do. There's not going to be any escape from Brent, but Patrick doesn't have to like it.

"Patrick Martin Stump, you better have a good reason for disrespecting Brent and leaving this house when he said not to."

Patrick grimaces. His mother is sitting in the living room with Brent next to her. Brent looks a little nervous, like he's afraid of disciplining Patrick. Patrick wants to punch him in the jaw.

He stands in front of his mother, meeting her eyes. Patrick's learned long ago to look her in the eyes when she's mad. "I don't." He says, tired and wanting to get his sentencing over with.

She frowns and glances at Brent. She's pissed. "Care to tell me why you left then?" She asks, folding her arms across her chest and Patrick can see that intense fire in her eyes. His dad once said Patrick had it, too.

"Because Brent's not my dad and if I'm living in Juneau, then I may as well get to know it." Patrick counters, not willing to be intimidated by her. She was the most stubborn person he knew aside from himself, and sometimes it definitely caused a strain in their relationship. Like now.

Patrick wants to go back to the before. Before Brent proposed. They were happy at home and Patrick would do whatever she asked of him. But now, it's like some far off memory that keeps looping in his head like a record. The woman he once respected and idolized seems so foreign to him now, and he hates it. Hates the fact that Brent is the reason why she's so different. It's like Patrick doesn't even know his own mother anymore.

She's quiet for a moment. "That doesn't mean you disrespect him. He offered to show you around Juneau and you want to go with some stranger you met yesterday!" With those words Patrick feels that bubble inside him pop, feels all his self control dissolve. So Joe was a stranger but Brent wasn't? Patrick's certain his mother is actually an idiot in that moment.

Patrick laughs. It's cold and bitter and it doesn't even feel like he's in control of himself anymore. "And what, Brent's not a stranger? The only thing I know about him is his last name and the fact that he's somehow seduced you into marrying him less than a year after knowing him. You want to know how I feel, mom? That's how I feel."

He takes a shaky breath and clenches his fists. It's like he's run a marathon with all the adrenaline pumping through him and the anger he has. Patrick wants to walk out the door and never come back. "I fucking hate this mom. I've been trying to tell you for the past month and you've just ignored me because you're oh-so in love with Brent. What is it, mom? Does he have money? What makes him so good that you pick us up and make me leave Chicago!?"

Patrick's shouting now, angry like he's never been before and wiping furiously at his eyes. Brent looks shocked and his mother looks furious. "You haven't given it a chance! You said you would give Juneau a chance!"

"I have! I went out today and yeah, it's beautiful, but it's not home! And I never said I would give Brent a chance! Why would I give the guy who ruined my fucking life a chance at being my what, my dad or something? I already have a dad, and it's not him."

Patrick's mother wipes at her own eyes, a frown on her face. Patrick misses the times when she would always be smiling. "Me and Brent are getting married, whether you like it or not, Patrick. So you better get use to it, fast." Patrick hates her and Brent with everything in that moment.

"I just- screw this." Patrick growls, running hands through his hair and feeling close to tears. "You don't give a shit about me. And it's all your fucking fault." He directs the last part to Brent, voice dripping with venom as he does so. Then, he turns around and stomps upstairs, back into his room and locking the door.

It feels a lot like yesterday, but he doesn't cry. He can't bring himself to - and distantly he wonders if he even has any tears left to cry. All Patrick has is anger and regret and he just wants everything to go away. He wants to punch a hole into the all and throw himself out of the window all at the same time.

If everything could just go away for a while, then everything would be better. All the pain of now and of yesterday and all the pain to come - he hates thinking about it and hates that there's still much more.

There's kids in third world countries suffering much more than himself, Patrick thinks, but he still feels like he's suddenly having the worst day imaginable. He wants to go back and hang out with Joe for a while longer and keep delaying the inevitable fight with his mother.

Patrick said he would give Juneau a chance and he has give Juneau a chance. Brent is an entirely different matter and he never said he would try to make friends with him or whatever. He still hates him for existing and especially for proposing to his mother.

Brent has to have different intentions. They've been dating for less than a year and there has to be a reason why he proposed to his mother so early. There has to be some kind of motive, Patrick thinks wildly. There's just no fucking way that this could be his actual life now.

Maybe Brent was blackmailing his mother? Maybe he had information on her that she doesn't want anyone to know and he's forced her into marrying him. Patrick feels sick at the thought and he leans against his wall, breathing raggedly. There's just no absolute fucking say that Brent and her are getting married out of love. If there's something else going on, Patrick's going to figure it out.

"Love doesn't fucking exist." Patrick says bitterly, aware he sounds so damn emo, but he's so over the whole caring thing.

He's going to get to the bottom of this marriage, and when he does, he's leaving Juneau.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And not to worry! Pete will be making an appearance in the next chapter or two, as will Andy. This is a long one, so buckle up and get ready for angst!

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed and tell me what you thought! I love having feedback on my fics, especially longer chaptered ones like this!


End file.
